


The Most Dangerous Thing is to Love

by makeitbrighter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It, I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, gay love pierces through the veil of death and saves the day, logical conclusion to built-up narrative arcs, the handprint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeitbrighter/pseuds/makeitbrighter
Summary: Dean loses Cas, loses himself, finds himself, and finds Cas, in that order. This fills in the gaps of Dean mourning Cas in 15x19 and rewrites 15x20 to what it should have been: Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty.
Relationships: Background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 76





	1. Sink Like a Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam go to meet with Chuck, and Dean asks for the one thing he really wants. Chuck is only too happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about the scene with Chuck in 15x19, the one where crew members could hear Dean crying out for Cas from streets away. I was thinking, what if that was an almost-reunion, like the Lucifer prank call? So I wrote what I think happened there, and then I got really carried away.

Dean hasn't told Sam and Jack yet. He doesn't know if he can find the right words, and he doesn't trust himself to talk about Cas without becoming utterly lost. So Dean does everything he can to keep it together - for Sam, for Jack, for everyone Chuck vanished. He can deal with the aching emptiness later. The way it feels like Billie is still clutching his heart with frigid fingers. The way his shoulder still feels too warm and too cold, set ablaze with a fiery handprint and doused by the clutch of the Empty. 

When he closes his eyes, he sees Cas' blue ones, sparkling with tears. The light reflected off his eyes the same way it reflected off the lake Cas disappeared into, when every rational thought told Dean he was gone for good. It was the same way the river in Purgatory glimmered in the flat half-light when Dean found Cas again. 

Dean feels like he's drowning. His emotions, his memories, the things he couldn't say are crashing in and around him, battering the dam he constructed long ago to protect himself. He throws himself into old patterns again. Saving the world is always a good distraction. But when he meets Chuck, the storm surges. 

"Cas," Dean says. "You gotta bring him back." He forces the words out through gritted teeth. His voice sounds harsh to his own ears, angry but strangely flat. It's a struggle to filter out the emotion bubbling in his throat, threatening to choke him.

Chuck ponders this for a moment. Then he laughs. It's cruel, mocking. "Cas? You want Cas back? Why didn't you say so?" Chuck's voice is shot through with malicious glee. He snaps his fingers.

And there he is. Cas, looking just like he did twelve years earlier, striding into that warded barn across traps and sigils while the lights exploded overhead. He's wearing his old coat, his usually tidy hair is a mess, but it's him.

Dean loves him. He knows, he's always known, but he's never felt it like he has in this moment. His shoulder tingles, the ghost of Cas' handprint crackling across his skin.

"Cas," he whispers, his voice still tight and restrained, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He knows he should look at Sam, look at Chuck, see if anyone sees what he's seeing. It wouldn't be the first time he's hallucinated Cas. But he can't take his eyes off the angel.

Dean waits for a response that does not come.

"Cas," he repeats, louder, more desperate. Cas still doesn't move, doesn't look at him. He stands straight-backed and rigid, gazing straight in front of him and looking right through Dean. 

Dean doesn't realize he's been frozen to the spot until he can suddenly move again, a boiling wave of panic freeing him. He rushes forward, grabs Cas by the shoulders and looks into his eyes, and they're...blank. There's nothing there.

"Cas," Dean cries out, and he's breaking, decades of protective barriers shattering as love and hope and terror and loss threaten to drag him under, filling his eyes with tears. "Cas, Cas, please, Cas, it's me, I'm here!"

Cas stares right through Dean. He doesn't blink.

"Cas," and it's a sob this time, almost a scream, too loud and too honest even though it will never be enough. He raises his shaking hands to cup Cas' face, praying his touch will light some spark of recognition in Cas' empty eyes. "Cas, I'm sorry, please, I need you, I lo-"

Before Dean can finish, Cas steps back, leaving Dean's hands cupping the air. Cas turns away. He takes one step, two steps, and then Chuck snaps his fingers, and Cas is gone.

Dean falls to his knees as sobs rack his body. Cold loss floods his defenseless heart.

Chuck's low laughter curls through the still air like poisonous gas. "You really thought that an angel could feel? Could love? I'd feel sorry for you if it wasn't so damn funny," Chuck snickers. "He was a mistake. A defect. He's back to the way he was always supposed to be, before you ruined him. Angels can't love. And even if they did, they certainly wouldn't love you, you pathetic, sniveling child. You're nothing more than a killer, Dean. A weapon, a tool for stronger and better men to use. And you thought...what, exactly? That you'd be able to save the day with the power of love? Don't be stupid. That's just bad writing."

Chuck turns to say something to Sam, but Dean doesn't hear. Chuck vanishes. Dean gasps for air, and understands how it feels to drown.


	2. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is gone, gone for good, but Dean thinks he knows how to bring him back.

Sam's voice drifts toward Dean, but it's hard to make out the words. They're blurry. He can't understand them. They're an ocean apart.

He hears something that he thinks might be his name. He's not sure. Is it his name anymore? Is he the same person he was before Cas was gone?

He feels Sam's hand on his back. It's strange. He should appreciate the sympathy of the gesture, but it's somehow unpleasant. Sam's hand is warm, but Dean is cold, he's freezing. Dean thinks Sam is talking to him, but he can't hear.

Sam slides his left hand from Dean's back to his upper arm. His right hand carefully avoids the bloody handprint on Dean's jacket, resting instead on Dean's left forearm. Dean can barely feel Sam's hands as they lift him to a standing position. All he can feel is the ghost of Cas' hand on his left shoulder, the warmth of his face quickly dissipating from Dean's palms.

Standing now, Dean is acutely aware of the absence of the solid earth that was supporting him. His thoughts are swirling around him, crashing over him, threatening to drag him back under. Like sneaker waves, they catch onto his ankles and pull at his knees.

Cas is gone.

Cas left him.

Just like everyone does.

That one hits him, and Dean starts to sway. Sam slings an arm around Dean's waist and turns them toward the Impala, half-dragging, half-carrying Dean. He carefully seats Dean in the passenger seat, finds the keys, starts driving away.

Dean tips his head back to rest on the top of the seat, looking up toward the ceiling. It feels like a way to keep his head above water. He tries to breathe deep, but his breaths are stilted and ragged. His chest feels too small. He is again reminded of the feeling of Billie clutching his heart, crushing it with her fingers and puncturing it with nails like knives.

He remembers how Cas held him then. Unconsciously, Dean's right hand moves to cover Cas' handprint. He squeezes. It doesn't calm the searing ache in the left side of his torso. Dean doesn't know if the pain is radiating from his heart or his shoulder. They might be the same at this point. Both touched, claimed, owned by Cas. Cas, who's gone. Again.

Dean has lost Cas before. He's lost so many people. But this time, this time is different. Dean wishes he didn't know why it feels different.

Cas loved him. Cas loved him so much that he died for it. And now, he's gone forever. Restored to factory model angel-of-the-lord.

Cas is dead because of Dean, and Dean never got to tell him he loved him too.

Dean inhales a sharp, stabbing breath when he realizes that nobody ever told Cas he was loved. He can feel Sam's worried glance in his direction, but Dean can't look at him. His eyes flood with tears again, recognizing that Cas died without knowing he was loved, so loved.

God, he's an idiot.

Dean lets his head fall forward, burying his face in his hands as despair pulls him into the deep again.

* * *

They're home, technically. Dean wonders if he can still call it that. Sam offers Dean a hand to help him out of the car, but Dean brushes him off. He's had enough pity for today.

Jack is waiting for them inside, but Dean walks past him without making eye contact. Dean's every instinct is screaming at him to stop being so selfish, to put his stupid problems aside and sit down with Jack and Sam to figure out a plan. But for once, Dean ignores his obligation to protect, to defend. The others will only remind him of the absence. He hears their voices from far away, and he can't bring himself to care about what they're saying about him.

Alone in his room, Dean shuts the door. His legs, having valiantly carried him this far, finally wobble, and he collapses with his back to the door and his knees drawn to his chest. It's so cliché, he thinks to himself. All he needs is some sappy music playing in the background, and his life would be a full-on chick flick. 

Minus the happy ending.

Dean hears Chuck's mocking laughter again. "And you thought...what, exactly? That you'd be able to save the day with the power of love? Don't be stupid. That's just bad writing."

It would work in a chick flick, wouldn't it?

Dean suddenly notices his heart pounding in his chest. He can feel warmth spreading outward, thawing and cracking the ice in his veins. The drumming of his heart is a call to action.

Suddenly too warm, he pulls off his jacket. Shifting to a cross-legged position on the floor, he holds the jacket in his lap. It reminds him of pulling Cas' coat out of the lake. Did he know then? Did Cas know then?

He remembers gripping the coat a little too tightly before placing it gently in the trunk. Yes, Dean thinks, he knew. He hadn't admitted it to himself until Purgatory cleared his mind, allowed him to live free and pure and himself. He prayed to Cas every night.

Dean holds the jacket tightly, with the handprint facing up, as he bows his head and closes his eyes.

"Cas," he starts, and then he realizes he doesn't know what to say. He's never done this before. He's never said it before, to anyone.

Dean takes a shaky breath and tries again. "Cas," he murmurs. "I don't know if you can hear me. God, I hope you can hear me. You always could before."

One corner of Dean's mouth curls into a gentle smile as a memory floats back to him. "'A more profound bond,' you called it once. What we had. What we still have, I hope." Dean unconsciously clutches the jacket a little tighter as he continues.

"You said...you said happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being," and even though his eyes are closed Dean can see Cas' face, alight with understanding and peace and love, love for Dean, love Dean was too stupid to see. His heart beats faster. "Cas, you had me. You've had me for so long. Maybe always, maybe since we met, I don't know. And I didn't tell you..."

Dean hesitates. These are uncharted waters for him. It's hard to ignore his brain, shouting at him to bury his feelings, disguise them with half-truths and stupid jokes. But his heart is still thundering along, and it's telling him it's time for the truth. The real truth.

"Cas, I didn't tell you because I didn't think you could ever love me. I didn't think you could love me because I'm...well, I'm a mess. And you're you. You're an angel, and I didn't think you even could feel love the same way humans do. The way I do." And Dean has to say it now, he's right there, teetering on the edge of the deep end.

"I love you, Cas. I always have. I have loved you so much that it scares me. I love you, and I want to have you, but more than anything, I want you to be here. So please...please be here."

Dean's lips brush against the handprint on his jacket, gentle, soft, and tender.

* * *

Dean waits. He waits seconds, or hours, or weeks. He paces around his room as if searching for better cell reception. He prays until his voice is hoarse, his fingers stiff and clawed from clinging to the jacket like a life preserver.

Cas doesn't come.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Dean curses himself. Of course it didn't work. He's gone, he's dead. And it's your fault. As always. You thought he could love? You thought he could love you? You thought you deserved love? You're a killer. Daddy's blunt instrument. A tool, a weapon. They don't need you. No one needs you. That's why they leave. They'll always leave.

The voice in his head repeats all this, and more voices pick it up, Cas and Sam and Chuck and Jack and Mary and John all howling like hurricane winds that Dean is alone. He drops the jacket to clutch at his chest, gasping for air again.

Bent double as he tries to catch his breath, Dean notices a bottle tucked under his bed. Whiskey. The good stuff. He'd been saving it for something, but he can't remember what. He grabs the bottle, and he starts drowning in a different way.


	3. You Better Hush and Walk Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to keep going, but Dean's afraid of what will happen if he stops.

Dean wakes up to a poke in the back. He doesn't remember what he was dreaming about. He thinks he probably doesn't want to.

He opens his eyes to see a whiskey bottle, which he'd apparently been using as a pillow. Slightly more comfortable than the floor. He doesn't remember how he got there. The bottle isn't totally empty. "Look out," he tells it. 

"You okay?" Sam asks.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Dean overcorrects, and has to grab onto the edge of the table to avoid falling. A few empty beer bottles clink as they roll across the floor, much too loudly, and he groans.

"I feel terrrrrrrific," he slurs. Dean opens his eyes and sees a beer bottle and his laptop. Two distractions right at hand. He shuffles awkwardly on his knees to face the chair so he can drape his upper body over its seat, pushing himself up to a near-standing position before maneuvering himself to sit down.

Sam just looks at him. Dean knows he should feel ashamed, but the booze is numbing his brain, shutting off the parts that feel shame...or grief.

Dean grabs the beer next to the laptop and downs half of it in one go, his head spinning when he tilts it back.

Jack comes in and starts talking about weirdness. Weirdness, Dean can handle.

* * *

Once he's sobered up, they hit the road, looking for whatever presence Jack is feeling out there. It's simple. Saving people, hunting things. It feels like he's on autopilot. Back to normal. Nothing to see here.

And then Chuck vanishes Miracle. And if it was easy to fall back into his work, it's even easier to fall back into his rage. Dean has one thought, and it's to end Chuck. He might even break out his good knives for that.

Cas' voice murmurs in his ear. _"That's not who you are."_

He hasn't forgotten Cas - how could he forget? Forgetting Cas would be like forgetting how to drive, how to eat, how to breathe. It's muscle memory, thinking about him. Cas touched his soul. Cas touched his heart.

He hasn't forgotten. He's just trying not to remember.

Dean has loved Cas for a long time. But he's been ignoring his feelings for even longer.

* * *

They find Michael and bring him back to the bunker, but he can't open the God Book, so that's a bust. Sam is trying to plan next steps when Dean's phone rings. He's five or six beers in at that point, so he doesn't realize how weird it is that his phone is ringing when there are only three people left on Earth, and one of them is in the same room as him.

He stops breathing when he reads the caller ID. 

"What?" he chokes out, and Sam looks at him, and he looks at Sam. Dean answers on speakerphone. Whatever is waiting for him on the other line, he needs someone else to hear it.

"Cas?"

"Dean," and it's _him_ , it's Cas, his deep voice familiar and yet somehow wrong. Dean again feels the sensation of being underwater and hearing someone speak from miles above him. There's an inexplicable distance distorting the sound and twisting Dean's feelings.

But Cas says, "I'm here, I'm hurt, can you let me in?" and Dean doesn't need feelings to tell him what to do as he sprints up the stairs and wrenches open the door.

"Wazzup?" Lucifer cackles.

Dean slams the door shut, and it's all he can do to not collapse again as the last embers of hope in his heart flicker and fade.

He's gone. He's really gone.

Rage it is, then.

* * *

There's Lucifer, and a reaper, and there's an archangel fight, and Dean can't bring himself to care about anything except ending Chuck. Sam and Jack craft a plan, and Dean allows himself to be swept along by them. He'll be a good little soldier and do his part, and then he'll have his revenge.

 _"And what after?"_ asks Cas' voice in his mind.

He can't go there. No distractions.

Sam punches Chuck first, and Dean is happy to let him have it. He knows it's just a diversion, and Dean doesn't trust himself to pull back after only one hit.

He lets Chuck think he's breaking him. When Chuck tells them to give it up, Dean just laughs. He's felt pain. This? This is relief. With his bones snapped and his mouth full of blood, he doesn't have to think about anything except Chuck.

When Jack defeats him, Chuck goes sprawling in the dirt. He looks up at Dean and cries, "What did you do?"

"We won," Dean says, allowing a note of righteous fury to bleed into his voice. He watches Chuck flip through the God Book as they explain "Plan B," but Dean's patience is wearing thin. He can't wait to get his hands on Chuck, finally, after so long.

He's considering drowning Chuck in the lake when Chuck says he'd be honored to be killed by the Winchesters. He looks at Dean. "The ultimate killer," he laughs.

Dean looks at Sam, but doesn't actually see him. He sees Cas instead. He sees Cas on the first night they met, the way he looked when Chuck brought him back. He blinks, and he sees Cas in the Croatoan future, shrugging loosely and saying, "I like past you." He sees Cas walking into the lake. He sees Cas as Emmanuel, not recognizing Dean. He sees Cas in Purgatory, for the first time and the last time. He sees Cas grinning brightly though his eyes are filled with tears.

_"You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are."_

He can do it, but he won't.

Dean nods almost-imperceptibly at the most recent vision of Cas. He can feel Cas' warm hand on his shoulder again. When Dean blinks, he's gone.

"Sorry, Chuck," Dean says, and walks past him.

"What?" Chuck stammers in horror and confusion? Dean stops, turns.

"See, that's not who I am," Dean says, and he feels the truth of it settle into his bones.

* * *

  
Jack is...something, now. He brings the people back. He even brings the dog back. Sam is way too interested in the lore of it all, asking about Chuck and Amara. Dean isn't really listening.

"You gonna...come back with us to the bunker?" Sam asks.

Dean shoots a sidelong glance at him. "What do you mean, of course he's gonna come back to the bunker," Dean says. "He's a man with a plan, he's top dog, he can do whatever he wants now!" Dean turns toward the car, ready to put this town in the rear-view mirror.

As he's walking away, he thinks about what he would have wanted in a childhood home, if he'd allowed himself to want. "Y'know what, we'll spruce the place up a little, get some recliners, we'll get you one of those big-screen TVs..."

Dean turns to look over his shoulder, hoping to catch Sam rolling his eyes at Dean. But instead he sees that Sam and Jack aren't following him.

"Dean, I'm not coming back home," Jack states. His clinical tone is at odds with his words, which smack Dean across the face. "In a way, I'm already there."

That good old standby, anger, leaps at the chance to wrest control of Dean's brain. "Where?" he barks, seizing onto the fury to avoid whatever nasty emotion is pulling at his ankles again.

"Everywhere," Jack says with a little shrug. And Dean loses the conversation for a moment, just staring at Jack. Everywhere? How could anywhere be better than at home, with your family? Dean remembers how it felt when Sam left for Stanford. When Cas left. When he made Cas leave. And he's so angry at himself, so angry that he believed he might finally, finally get to live the way he always wanted, that Dean lashes out.

"It's a hell of a time to bail. You got a lot of people counting on you, people with questions, they're gonna need answers." 

He immediately regrets the harsh words. But Jack is confident and self-possessed as he fires back, "And those answers will be in each of them." He's so sure, so absolutely sure, that it takes Dean by surprise. Jack's words clear the air between them, a clean, cold breeze that brings a memory with it.

 _"The Lord works..."_ Cas had said.

 _"If you say in mysterious ways, so help me, I will kick your ass,"_ Dean snapped back at him.

They had only just met, and they were already fighting about God and faith in Bobby's kitchen like they'd been doing it for years. Dean expected a stern rejoinder, perhaps even a violent response. But Cas just held his palms up to Dean in a shockingly human gesture of "okay, okay, fine, I won't push it."

Dean thinks about how proud Cas would be if he could hear Jack right now, talking about a beautiful new world where God has faith in people, where belief and love matter. He decides to follow Cas' example.

"I'm really as close as this," Jack concludes, placing his hand over his heart. He contemplates the feeling for a moment, then lifts his hand in farewell. "Goodbye," he states. So simple, so unpretentious. So unlike Chuck.

As he watches Jack turn to walk away, Dean thinks about the best version of himself. He thinks about a version of himself who doesn't succumb to anger and pain and fear, who acts for love, who speaks the truth. He remembers Cas' words again, and Dean knows he has to say something. He can't let anyone else leave without hearing Dean.

"Wait," Dean stammers. "Jack, wait."

Jack looks back over his shoulder, his face a little puzzled.

"I...I'm proud of you. And, uh," Dean inhales here, trying to breathe in enough energy to say his name, "Cas...Castiel would be too."

Jack's mouth twitches upward, just a little, his serene, peaceful smile becoming something wistful. He turns back to fully face Dean and Sam. "Thank you, Dean. I will do my best."

"Of course you will," Dean reflexively replies, and he means it. The unfamiliar feeling of pure, unfiltered honesty is intoxicating. Dean heaves a deep breath and asks what he's been too afraid to ask until now.

"You...you brought everyone back...even..." Dean's voice gets lower as he continues, and his voice cracks on the last word. It was hard enough to say Cas' name the first time. It feels dangerous to ask for something - someone - out loud, in the open. Admitting he needs Cas back feels like he's inviting every monster within a thousand-mile radius to interfere. He's in shark-infested waters, and speaking his need aloud is reopening dozens of bloody wounds.

Jack's posture crumples a little, his smile slipping. He closes his eyes. It's agony, the waiting. Dean isn't even sure what he's doing. But he can tell it didn't work when Jack opens his eyes and exhales a long, devastated sigh.

"I can't," Jack mutters.

Dean has been struggling desperately against the current for the past few days. This is what finally makes him let go, with neither rage nor hope to cling to. He averts his eyes downward, trying to focus on anchoring his feet to the earth. Knowing this is a battle he cannot win, Dean still tries to resist being swept away by the powerful waves of loss and grief that crash over him.

It's easier to focus outwards. Dean reminds himself to hold it together for Jack, for Sam. It's not Jack's fault. Dean can't blame him. He did his best.

Breathing shakily, Dean starts to speak, to reassure Jack, but Jack cuts him off.

"But I think you can."

Raising his eyes to meet Jack's, Dean sees his soft smile before he meets Jack's eyes, which are sure and certain.

Before Dean has formulated a question, before he can even open his mouth to ask, Jack answers. "I can't interfere. I can't tell you how to raise him. But you can. Have faith. Remember the beginning."

Jack raises his hand again, gives a single wave of his fingers, and turns away. He walks a few paces before dissolving into light.

Dean thought his heart had been extinguished, left a pile of cold ashes. But Jack's words stoke the hearth, revealing the ashes to be coals, dimmed but not doused, burning bright and hot from within. 

"I'm going to find you, Cas," he whispers. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been mostly canon-compliant (or at least canon-adjacent) so far but that ends here, because obviously nothing happened after that final scene where Jack walked away. That was the end of the show! We didn't see anything after that!
> 
> Go back and watch 15x19 and tell me Dean wasn't about to say something as Jack was walking away. Jensen Ackles c'mere I just want to talk about your microexpressions and your very loud post-finale silence. 
> 
> Also: sorry to keep adding chapters! This chapter got longer than I expected. Chapter 4 will definitely, absolutely be the final chapter, for real this time. Thanks for reading!


	4. You Will Heal and You'll Rise Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To find Cas, Dean needs to remember the beginning. Whatever that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye canon, hello the happy ending they deserved. It's ridiculous! It's cliché! It's tooth-rottingly sweet! I'm not sorry!

"I'm going to find you, Cas," Dean whispers. "I promise."

After watching Jack vanish, Dean turns back toward the Impala, walking with quick, short strides. He pulls open the door and slides behind the wheel, shutting the door behind him. He looks back over his shoulder to see Sam hurrying towards the car.

"Dean, wait!" he calls. Dean rolls his eyes, but he's secretly glad to be able to feel annoyed with his brother again. As if Dean would leave without him.

Sam gets in the car, and Dean turns the keys in the ignition, bouncing his left knee impatiently. He shoots a mild glare at Sam, tilting his head as if to say, "really?"

Sam frowns. He even gets his eyebrows to turn down along with his mouth. "Dean, slow down," he says with exasperation. "We need to talk about this, whatever it is we're doing. We need to stop and think." Dean resists the instinct to roll his eyes again.

"Sammy," he says calmly, "I know what I'm doing."

Sam is angry now. "No, Dean, you don't! You've been barreling along like a freight train, crushing everything in your path. If you don't slow down, you're going to lose control." The implied _again_ at the end of the sentence is tangible.

Dean inhales slowly before responding. "I'm okay, Sammy. I really am."

He is. He's broken the chains that were holding him down, and he's swimming towards a blinding light. His head is spinning. He can barely keep a giddy smile off his face. It feels like his body is full of tiny helium balloons, lifting him up.

He is okay. He's going to get Cas back.

Dean flashes a real, genuine smile at Sam, and he can't remember the last time he did. Sam's face smooths into a look of mere concern as he waits for Dean to explain.

"I'm okay, Sam. I know what I need to do. But first, you got somewhere you need to be."

Sam's smile is part joy, part relief, and part gratefulness. "Okay," he agrees. "Take me home."

Dean shifts the car into gear, and they drive towards Eileen's.

* * *

She's there, of course. Right where they had found her phone on the sidewalk. Waiting for them. Dean hasn't even fully stopped, just slowed the car to a roll, when Sam throws open the door and runs to her.

Dean smiles to himself as he looks away, focusing on parking the car. It's not for him to see such a private moment. He fiddles with the stereo until Sam comes back to the passenger door, resting his hands on the windowsill and leaning into the car.

"You're sure I can't come with you?" Sam asks tentatively. Dean can practically hear the gears grinding in his head.

Dean gives Sam a level, steady gaze. "Positive," he says firmly. "I need to do this by myself. And besides," he smirks, shooting a wave to Eileen over Sam's shoulder. "I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do."

Sam scoffs, a familiar mixture of exasperation and affection. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean responds, grinning widely. "I'll see you soon, Sammy."

"See you soon. Be safe."

Dean bites back a snarky rejoinder and says simply, "I will."

He doesn't know where he's going, but he'll be safe wherever Cas is.

Dean watches Sam and Eileen until they close Eileen's front door behind them, then drives away.

* * *

The bunker is completely silent. Dean knows he should hate the deserted rooms, promising loneliness, reminding him of absence. But it's temporary. He goes to his room first, wincing when he sees the empty bottles littering the floor. It looks like he stepped on one or two of them, the broken glass glittering ominously.

Dean carefully lowers himself to his knees on the floor, away from the broken glass. It takes a few minutes of rummaging before he finds what he's looking for. The jacket bearing Cas' handprint, lying crumpled and half-hidden under his nightstand.

He takes it gently in his hands and dusts it off without realizing he's doing it. It's not actually dusty, but he feels he has done it some harm by throwing it away like he did.

Dean stares at the simple cloth that holds all he has left of Cas. It's a bizarre kind of intimacy to see Cas' blood on the jacket and know that it pumped through his veins and was touched by his heart.

His heart, which was the death of him.

It really was that simple, wasn't it? Cas had sacrificed his own heart rather than let Billie take Dean's.

_"I think too much heart was always Castiel's problem," Samandriel said to Dean. Dean immediately became angry, ready to argue that Cas had no heart, Cas had given up, Cas left him. But he pushed it down, the pain of failing Cas still too fresh._

Samandriel had been right, all those years ago. Had Cas known then? Had Dean known then?

Well. One way to find out.

Dean pulls on the jacket. Still kneeling, he clasps his hands together and closes his eyes.

"Cas, I'm going to find you. Just hold on."

He pauses. He's not expecting a response, but he feels incomplete somehow.

"I love you."

Nothing happens. But unlike last time, when he had plunged into panic, Dean remains steady. He waits, just breathing, noticing the expansion and contraction of his chest, finally unburdened of its deepest secret truth.

It's okay, Dean thinks to himself. It's okay. I'll find him. What had Jack said?

_"Have faith. Remember the beginning."_

Dean gasps as he feels a hand on his shoulder, covering Cas' handprint. He doesn't dare open his eyes, afraid of what he may or may not see. The touch warms his skin, heats his muscle, sears his bone, burns his soul with the white-hot light of clarity.

The beginning.

That's it.

* * *

He still doesn't know what he's doing, but Dean at least knows where he's going. Pontiac, Illinois. It didn't come back to him immediately, but after skimming a few maps the inconspicuous little city had flashed at him like a beacon. He drives the Impala east out of Lebanon, pressing the gas pedal down further and further, racing his car almost as fast as his heart. 

Anxiously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Dean decides to put on some real drums, give himself a rhythm to get lost in. He grabs the first tape he touches and pops it in.

Led Zeppelin.

The universe is a cruel and beautiful place.

He murmurs the lyrics like a prayer as he drives.

* * *

The drive takes too long, even though he's not actually sure how long it takes. Finding Pontiac is easy, but he's worried about finding the barn. It's been a long time. Dean finds himself taking turns without really thinking about them, slowing the car before the road even curves. Like a moth to a flame, he's drawn back to the place where he had first met Cas.

 _"Have faith,"_ Jack had said. Dean wonders if that's what is steering him. Jack did say he would be in everyone, after all.

Faith is a funny thing. It's something Dean had never had, and something Cas had always had. Until they met. Cas was an unstoppable force and Dean was an immovable object, but Cas stopped and Dean moved, and they did it for each other. For love.

Unconsciously, Dean stomps on the Impala's brakes. The thought alone is enough to stop for, but he's also where he needs to be. It's night by now, only the moon left to illuminate the barn. It looks a little more decrepit, a little more weathered than he remembers, but he remembers it all the same. Dean swallows hard. Whatever he has to do, he has to do it now. No more running. Nowhere left to go.

He takes a deep breath.

* * *

The sigils on the barn's interior walls are faded and peeling. Dean's boots crunch over broken glass, the remnants of the storm that was Castiel. He remembers the literal electricity in the air as the lights exploded overhead, and can't shake the feeling that it's still buzzing around him.

Stepping softly, Dean makes his way to the back of the barn. Something catches the beam of his flashlight near the ceiling. Dean looks up and sees, in the back left corner of the barn, one lamp with a single, intact lightbulb. The lamp sways gently in the night breeze drifting through the patchy roof.

At the time, he didn't notice that the light over his head had failed to explode. Even then, Cas was protecting him from harm. And the first thing Dean did was stab him.

Dean wonders if he ever apologized for that.

His shoulder aches.

It's impossible to tell exactly where he was standing that night, but Dean figures that he's close enough. An eerie peace settles over the barn as he comes to stand under the one functioning light, darkened but unbroken. He switches off the flashlight.

He closes his eyes, and he remembers.

A dozen years' worth of memories flash through his head like a hacky movie montage. He tries to skip past the painful ones, where someone or something - sometimes Dean himself - has hurt Cas. He tries to catch the rare little moments of bliss, like snowflakes on his tongue, barely present before they melt away. Cas smiling at Jack, Cas laughing at something stupid Sam said, Cas gazing at Dean in that way that feels like it pierces his soul.

Cas' eyes, brimming with tears, but full of relief and peace as the Empty swallowed him. Happiness looked beautiful on him.

Dean imagines Cas' face when Dean tells him he loves him too, and he's overwhelmed by a rush of quiet joy.

There is a hushed, musical sound, like tinkling bells. Dean opens his eyes, and sees a dark, twisting portal opening before him.

He places his right hand over the handprint on his jacket, squeezing gently. Then he steps through the portal into the Empty.

* * *

It's loud. Countless overlapping voices in long-dead languages, which Dean simultaneously can and can't understand.

"Him." "How?" "Hide."

Emotion buzzes in the air, fury and fear. Dean can't see anything distinct, just layers upon layers of shadows, darting into and out of his periphery. He shouldn't be able to see anything in the black void of the Empty, but his eyes instinctually pick up the movement.

The chorus is deafening and barely audible at the same time, echoing around his skull. He recognizes some of the voices but can't place them. Even if he could, Dean isn't sure he would want to remember everyone he's sent here.

Surrounded by invisible legions of presumably angry and extremely powerful beings, Dean should be on the defensive, minimum, if not downright panicking. But a bizarre calm has settled over him. He's the eye of the hurricane. They can't touch him.

Even the concept of direction is absent in the Empty, but Dean begins to walk straight ahead. Hissing, menacing whispers surround him.

"Return." "Kill." "Wrong." "Lost." "Foolish." "Hunt." "Dead."

Dean just keeps walking.

After a few steps, or a few hundred miles, the darkness becomes less dark. The shadows gain more definition. Holding a hand in front of his face, Dean can almost see its outline.

The whispers are getting louder.

He keeps going.

The Empty is getting less empty.

Looking to his left and right, Dean can see the hints of outlines of shapes. Looking down, he can almost see his feet. Looking up, a few gentle twinkles, like stars peeking through cloud cover.

Dean doesn't look back.

He keeps going.

Faster and faster, Dean is running towards something for the first time in his life instead of running away from monsters and memories. All his responsibilities and obligations, doubts and fears, are streaming behind him, stretching out like highway lines in a rearview mirror. Get rid of all of the messiness of being human and being chosen, and what is left?

Stripped down to his core, Dean Winchester is love.

A blinding flash of light stops Dean in his tracks. The clamoring, screaming chatter of voices falls silent, hushed like a candle guttered by a gust of wind.

He opens his eyes to a soft, watery light, like a new moon. Above him, he can feel trillions of glittering stars and shining galaxies. He looks down, and Cas is there. It's not the Cas that Chuck showed him, it's the real him, lying outstretched on his back, motionless, eyes closed.

Dean kneels on Cas' left side, and gently touches his right hand to Cas' left shoulder.

Cas doesn't stir under Dean's touch. Dean can barely register Cas' body under his hand, neither cold nor warm, neither dead nor alive.

Dean gently slides his right arm under Cas' shoulders, his left arm supporting Cas' knees. Dean grips Cas tight as he lifts him easily into his arms. He has nothing left to carry, no burdens weighing him down. Dean stands, cradling Cas close to his chest.

The same quiet tinkling of bells as before announces the opening of a portal. Dean looks up at the stars, giving a nod of thanks before he steps through.

The Empty returns to silence, the peaceful satisfaction of a balanced universe.

* * *

Gravity may not work in the Empty, but it definitely still works on Earth. As the portal closes behind Dean and Cas, Dean nearly topples under Cas' weight. He manages to carefully lower them both to the floor of the barn, kneeling with Cas' upper body draped over his lap and propped up by Dean's arms.

Dean watches his face closely, searching for any tiny movement, but Cas is still motionless.

Okay, Dean thinks. Disney-style it is.

He leans in close and gently presses his mouth to Cas'. It's barely a kiss, just a brush of lips, just the absence of space between them.

Dean pulls away just far enough that he can see Cas' face. Just far enough that he can see Cas' blue eyes blink open.

Cas looks confused for a split second, and Dean has missed that bemused expression so much. Then Cas' eyes lock onto Dean's.

"Dean?" Cas whispers.

"Hey, Cas," Dean murmurs, grinning broadly while his eyes flood with tears.

"Dean?" Cas says again, and it's uncertain, and confused, and he's about to keep talking when Dean interrupts.

"Cas, you had me. You always had me. Maybe from the night we met, maybe from the first time I lost you, but you always, always had me. I didn't know I could want you. I didn't know how. But I did, I do. I have never loved like I have loved you. I love you." And Dean's eyes well over, and he's laughing and crying and he can't stop saying it. "I love you, I love you so much, I-"

Cas raises a hand to Dean's jaw, and gently turns Dean's face so their eyes meet again. He's smiling, and it's more perfect than Dean had imagined.

"I know," Cas says.

And Dean laughs and laughs until Cas pulls him down for a tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after, the end :) Thank you so much for reading!!!


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